Overworked
by fictionnfann
Summary: Stella's overworked, and Mac seems not to have noticed it. Rated for mature themes, concerning eating disorders.
1. Worry

**Hi! This is my first story on - tell me what you think! Will of course turn into SMacked - the best CSI ship!**

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Anyone could see that it had been a rough month for Stella Bonasera. Case after case had involved children – dead, missing, assaulted – and Mac had cruelly thrown each one at his second in command, and best friend, preferring to let Danny and Lindsay handle less personal cases.

The latest really had Stella thrown. A two-year-old from a wealthy New York family had been found bound and gagged, in a disused warehouse. His parents hadn't been contacted for a ransom, and had only been made aware of his disappearance from nursery after the child had been missing for three hours. With no leads, an interested press and two traumatised parents, the ever-mounting pressure was becoming too much for Stella.

"Pronounced" did not even begin to describe the circles under her eyes. Bruise-like, they perforated a sea of otherwise unblemished skin. Not only had she been losing sleep, but she had struggled to find the will-power to eat, or the time, and just the thought of the abuse that the baby had suffered was enough to bring a sour taste to the back of her mouth. As a result her wrists looked scraggy, and her frame could no longer be described as "defined", but "emaciated".

It was dozing, however, that Flack and Hawkes found her in the break room, legs curled up, jacket thrown open to reveal the all-too-pronounced outline of her ribs. Flack smiled at her at first, and moved to wake her, but Hawkes stopped him, gesturing at her gaunt face and withered appearance. Lindsay entered the room, followed by Danny, and Stella stirred uncomfortably, rubbing her stomach and yawning as she awoke.

"Jesus Stel, you wanna get some food down your throat, you're gonna start wasting awa…" Danny broke off, as Hawkes shot him a meaningful glance.

"Very tactful, Dan," muttered Lindsay, as Stella murmured something about a non-existent lunch break, and hurried off to collect a long-awaited set of test results from Adam. "She was finally asleep, and you go and wake her up by yelling something stupid about her appearance!" She glared at him, and he turned to Flack for support, but was surprised to see a similar expression on the detective's face.

"It's obvious that she hasn't been eating properly Danny, but there's no need to comment, and force her to clam up about it, you idiot!" Added Hawkes, pouring himself a coffee. "She's stressed about her case, I heard her telling Sid this morning, but Mac keeps handing the hard ones to her rather than…" He tailed off, but not before Lindsay caught the full meaning of his words, and blushed.

"Mac doesn't have to do that, I'm perfectly capable of distancing myself from cases. It's what we do, isn't it?" She asked, more for her own benefit than anyone else's.

"Of course Montana, but you know what Mac's like. You should be honoured that he cares about you enough to…" He tailed off again as Lindsay coughed meaningfully, and turned to see Mac standing in the doorway, an amused expression playing around the edges of his lips.

"Oh man, today's really not my day is it. Sorry boss." Danny nodded curtly at Mac and exited swiftly, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"So who hasn't been eating properly?" The ex-marine asked, a hint of concern in his otherwise even voice.

Lindsay rushed to make some sort of excuse, Flack found himself being paged, and Sheldon's tie conveniently got caught in the coffee pot, but all three fell silent when they heard a crashing sound outside the break room.

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**Reviews = love! Next chapter up tonight probably.**


	2. Anger

**Thank you so much for reviews! I'm not so sure that I like the direction this is taking, but I'll keep going to see where we end :) You gotta love Hawkes and his tie, he's so cutee! In this chapter I think I may have overdone it with the mention of anorexia so soon, let me know.**

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Mac turned sharply, as Flack, Hawkes and Lindsay headed to the door, only to see the almost comical sight of the collected, and usually put together Stella, sprawled dramatically across the floor, surrounded by an empty mug and the contents of numerous scattered files. Mac would have laughed, but his keen eyes were drawn to the worrying sight that was her hip bone, jutting painfully out above usually tight trousers, that were now being held up by a brown leather belt. Suddenly he knew who exactly the cause of Lindsay's concern was.

All were momentarily distracted as a loud yell escaped Stella's mouth. "Frick! Frick…Frick!" she shouted loudly, catching the attention of the lab rats across the hall.

"Cool it, Stell," Mac told her gently and quickly moved to help her up, as Flack set himself to work gathering up Stella's pieces of paper.

"Don't patronize me, Taylor. That hurt!" Stella shot him a glare that he knew could make many a man quake. She calmed down, however, when she felt her boss' strong, gentle hands, one on her hip, the other round her back, sitting her up, and pushing her forward onto her feet. She glanced at him, embarrassed, but her raging emotions were brought down a notch as her eyes locked on his, and she was met with worry and concern.

A red mark was already visible across her hollow cheek, heading down towards her chin, and she circled her wrist a few times, satisfied with the loud 'click' she heard on doing so.

"Get these back to Stella's office, Flack" Mac told the younger man, and, hand still on the small of her back, led her to his office, despite her numerous protestations.

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"Mac, I'm fine, I slipped, it's not the end of the world, my ankle just turned over, I…" Stella broke off as Mac pushed her gently down into his $2000 state funded, black, leather chair, and she took a deep breath as his callused fingers ran down her cheek.

"You're hurting." He stated simply, ready for the confusion that crossed her immaculately made-up face upon hearing his strange use of tense.

"It's nothing Mac, I told you that," She insisted angrily, bemusement still visible on her features.

"That's not what I'm referring to, Stella, and we both know it," Mac shot back evenly, gesturing to her skeletal frame without intending to.

"What are you saying, that I'm…anorexic? You've been talking to Lindsay, Mac, haven't you?" Fire blazed in Stella's eyes, as she drew herself up to her full height, defence visible in every part of her stature.

"I wasn't saying anything of the sort, Stella, but you knew what I was going to say, didn't you? And, no, I wasn't going to say you were anorexic because I don't think you are, but you certainly haven't been looking after yourself, and you need to, Stella."

"You know what? I have had enough of this. I push myself hard, Mac, that's what this job demands. I can't make mistakes, and if that means I work occasionally through my lunch breaks, then so be it. It's no crime, and lord knows you do it enough. So before you tell me to 'look after myself', you could take a look at your own actions."

Mac didn't attempt to follow as he watched her storm from his office, and his mind was distracted as his pager bleeped, and he hurried to meet Adam to go over his latest set of results.

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**Next chapter ready and waiting :)**


	3. Denial

**Happy New Year! Sorry it's taken me a while to upload, but I've drafted three more chapters, let me know what you think!**

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Stella, meanwhile, headed to the relative quiet of the locker rooms, walking with her head bent low to hide the tear that ran down her left cheek. Pity was an emotion that Stella Bonasera had never been able to deal with, or accept, when directed at her, and worry and concern fell into the same category. Stella was proud of her strength and knew that others valued her strength of mind, if not always her stubbornness. She was the first to admit that the determination with which she clung on to these traits was childish, but it wasn't about to change.

From the tender age of 8, when her best friend at St. Basils was ripped away from her by well-meaning foster parents, who turned their back on the small, skinny Italian-Greek girl, Stella knew that she wasn't going to fare well in the adult world if she burst in to tears at every available opportunity. Twenty, thirty years later she was not about to relinquish this grip on her emotions and give in to the barrage of upset threatening to spill with every pitying glance thrown in her direction. Settling herself against her locker for a second, she steadied herself, and took two deep breaths. She reached around in to her locker for an aspirin, and then a second, which she swallowed dry.

"Shouldn't do that on an empty stomach, you of all people should know that, Stel." Sheldon smiled sheepishly at her from the bathroom doorway, and her immediate anger at being patronized went out of the window as she met his eye, and met kindness rather than disappointment.

"If you'd had the week I've had, Hawkes, you'd be restraining yourself from swallowing the whole packet!" Stella smiled manfully back, but the smile failed to reach her eyes. "And how do you know I haven't eaten yet?" She challenged him, almost playfully.

"I am a doctor, Miss Bonasera, and it's my guess that you haven't eaten properly for a good three weeks. But, you know best, I'm just a lowly ME…" His words rang true, but his eyes twinkled and he grinned at her, praying only that she would smile back.

He needn't have worried. She beamed at him, elated that someone, anyone, was treating her like Stella, and not like someone with a problem. The moment was tarnished by Stella's need to yawn, which was accompanied by an embarrassing belly rumble.

"Therein lies your answer," He continued to tease. "Breakfast? My treat." He asked, but he knew the answer before she had even opened her mouth.

"I can't, Sheldon," Her eyes apologised for her silently. "Mac needs these done by eleven, which gives me," here she glanced down at the delicate silver watch on her right wrist, "approximately forty-eight minutes to finish them. Next time." She moved to leave, but Hawkes beat her to the door, and opened it for her.

"I might just take you up on that offer, Stella. You can't blame a guy for trying!" He tried to remain light-hearted – lord knows he'd made more progress than anyone else – but he sounded deflated, and she felt awful.

Arming herself with a smile, she clacked back down the halls on her favourite heels, leaving the younger ME staring at her retreating figure.


	4. Humour

**Thanks for the reviews! I'll keep uploading, just let me know what you think :)**

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The day slipped quickly past the team. Danny and Lindsay, with Hawkes' help, were able to make significant progress on their own case, involving what appeared to be a 'simple' hit-and-run, had it not transpired that the victim was dead at least fifteen minutes before the truck was on the road. Armed with two leads to hand over to night shift, they planned to slip off home before anyone noticed. Their plan was foiled by Flack, inviting them out to Casey's for a "quick drink".

Lindsay smiled fondly at Danny, who was, as usual, pretending desperately not to be interested in going. "We're in, Flack." She grinned at the detective, who looked shocked for a second, but quickly grinned back.

"Great, gang's meeting at eight. Now I've only gotta get Mac there, and we have a full house."

"As much as I'd like to see that happen, Flack, it's my personal opinion that pigs will fly before Mac comes to any social event without being bullied into it by Stella, who does not seem up to bullying anyone at the moment." Danny finished, Flack raised an eyebrow, and Lindsay coughed. "She's behind me, right?" Danny raised his eyebrows at his own bad luck, and wheeled around to face Stella who was leaning against the doorway, less for effect than for support.

"Danny, I'll be dead before I stop bullying Mac into doing the right thing. You guys could try asking him once in a while though, he's human, really!" She forced herself to smile again, and all three of the younger detectives noticed the case file that she clutched tightly in her hand.

"Stella, are you okay? You're case, I mean, not-" Lindsay broke off, unsure whether she had said the wrong thing.

Stella sighed. "Nothing we haven't seen before. Let's just say it's not your case for a good reason, Lindsay. The stuff people do…I know we're supposed to be used to it by now, but how are we ever going to get used to the torture of two-year-olds?" It was only that day that Sid had been able to give a full autopsy report, and it transpired that he had been tortured to death. He had gone into cardiac arrest as a result of his abuse. Stella had stared numbly at his tiny body while Sid rattled off the details, seemingly unaware of her own inner turmoil. He hadn't failed to notice, but he sensed, correctly, that she was not in the mood for interruptions. Her unconscious thanked him, and she had left the morgue to find Danny rattling off a speech about Mac's social life, or lack thereof. It was a welcome distraction. "But, on the plus side, we found epithelial trace on the boy's neck and chest, and a hair on his leg, which Adam's dealing with now. If we can find anything that doesn't belong to his parents or sister, we might be in luck." She laughed, dryly, and the others understood. It was lucky to catch a killer, but luckier still would have been for the victims – this baby – not to have suffered at all.

"Wanna come for a drink, Stella, might take your mind off things…" Flack trailed off, unsure what her reaction would be. It was unwritten policy that Mac and Stella wouldn't join the younger detectives – they respected their employees, and themselves, too much to get drunk with them.

"Thanks but no thanks, Don. I have to get back to Adam, and then go and talk to the parents again. I got saddled with 'keeping them updated'. Why don't we draw lots for that job again?" She mused aloud.

"Never had you down as a gambling lady, Stel." Danny joked, trying to lighten the light tension that Stella eminated.

"It's always the quiet ones," Her eyes started to sparkle again. It was fantastic to see. "You should know that, Danny!" Her words echoed Hawkes' own, and the sparkle was gone as quickly as it had arrived. "I'll see you tomorrow, I need to get on. Have fun…" She left the lab, already wrapped up in thought.

The three younger detectives stared at each other. "Whatever's going on here, I don't like it. Stella has never, ever let a case get to her like this before. And there have been some that even distracted Mac, but Stella's always got through her own feelings. I don't know…" Flack shook his head, and watched Danny and Lindsay put their coats on. "See you both later," He moved to exit the lab. "Eight o'clock, Casey's. Don't drive!"

"Why do you think I got Lindsay pregnant?" Danny joked, forgetting momentarily that she was standing next to him. Her sharp shove into his abdomen reminded him, and he grinned. "Now, how is it fair that I'm subject to abuse, and I run out to the 7/11 at all hours for the weirdest food, and I did the washing up this morning, and…" His voice was lost as they headed down the hall together. Mac looked up as they passed, and Lindsay smiled at him.

"Find Stella." She mouthed at him, and then turned back to Danny, who was still listing chores that he did.

"Shut up, Dan," She told him. "I'm carrying your child. Isn't that enough?"


	5. Longing

**Hi :) Thanks for all the reviews. I agree with what people have said, I really can't imagine the whole "Stella, I love you," "Mac, I love you too," "Now let's kiss this out!" thing happening for real - both characters are too complicated for that to work. But I'm bored of all the StellaAngst on here. I know my story is Stella's angst too, but she's not violently in love with him. I think Stella is way too strong not to go after him if she truly, truly feels like that. Okay, rant over - enjoy chapter 5!**

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It was an hour later when Mac finally caught up with her. He watched her for a minute, admiring the way her neck looked now that she had tied her hair up. 'Shake it off, Taylor.' He told himself, 'She might be a beautiful woman, but she needs your help.'

"Are you coming in, boss?" Stella's voice sounded strained, and she didn't turn around from whatever she was doing.

"How did you-" He stopped mid-sentence, as she silenced him with a wave of her left hand.

Walking up behind her, he looked at what she was doing, and smiled. Two-dozen cartons of ice-cream sat in front of her, a moon shaped dip in the top of each where she had taken a sample. You name it, it was there; Ben & Jerry's, Haagen-Dazs, Walls', and the cheap, 7/11 kind.

She explained slowly, biting her tongue in concentration. "They found something sticky around Jack's…the vic's…around his mouth," She managed, and Mac pretended to ignore her first-name reference to the toddler. "I was day-dreaming…this morning…about dinner, and I remembered…the little girl we looked after…6 months ago…we were waiting for her parents?" She tailed off for a second, waiting to see if Mac remembered. She needn't have worried.

"I remember. Emily, wasn't it?" He knew she was relying on him to fill in the gaps, but he surprised her – she hadn't realised he knew the name of the little girl.

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway," Stella finished decanting the last spoon of ice-cream into the test-tube, and pushed it into the machine that would choke out a comparative analysis. Mac, meanwhile, watched what she was doing, and waited for her to finish explaining. "Emily was with us for about 3 hours, and of course I offered her something to eat. All she wanted was ice-cream, so-"

"So you went to the store and bought as many flavours with her as you could, then spent your lunch break making up new combinations. Of course I remember, Stel, how could I forget!" He was teasing her gently now, and she smiled appreciatively.

"So, when we worked out that the baby had been taken around 7 hours before his murder, I thought that he would have gotten hungry, and thought that maybe-"

"You thought that maybe one or more of his attackers had a 'human' side, and had given him something sweet to eat?" He finished, knowing that he was spot on.

"And it seems," Stella paused to rip up the results from the machine, "That a combination of Ben & Jerry's," She pulled a brown and purple carton forward, "Haagen-Dazs", a red and gold pot this time, "And your basic raspberry ripple", a large white box, "Did the trick for young Jack here." She finished with a grin on her face.

"Very good, Detective Bonasera. I'll be sure to tell the chief that your salary is well worth it. Where else would I be able to learn about an infant's ice-cream preferences?" Light-hearted Mac. Stella met his eyes, and thanks were written all over them. "Seriously, Stel," He turned his attention back to the case, but only after maintaining eye-contact for a second longer than necessary. "What does this have to do with the case?"

"We're building up a profile of our attackers. I don't know about you, but most adults who've come into contact with young children will tell you that even a small bowl of ice cream can be a bad idea for two-year-old boys, let alone a mixture of three different flavours, in what I would imagine to be large quantities. I'm going to see Sid now and ask him to re-check stomach contents," She added, still not finished. "But I would imagine our attackers are young and inexperienced. They would have wanted a quiet baby, and ice-cream is not the way to achieve that." She smiled up at him, and his resolve almost broke. All he wanted to do was kiss her better.

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**Let me know what you think! Chapter 6 up tonight or tomorrow morning depending on time.**


	6. History

**Thanks for reviewing. Enjoy chapter 6!**

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Every muscle in Stella's neck tensed as she felt his breath there. She held her breath, and worked to escape a gasp as his arm brushed hers as he reached for her test results. And then he had gone, moving to the other side of the table. Frustration ebbed through her. Why couldn't this man sense the effect he had on her?

He knew, of course he knew. And Mac, ever the untypical male, was typically terrified. It wasn't that he didn't feel the same. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, partly because, well, she just was, but also because she was feisty, and determined, and put everyone else before herself. And somewhere along the road, he'd fallen in love with her.

Mac groaned at himself mentally as this played out in his head, and he realised how cheesy it sounded. Knowing he'd have time to continue the inner monologue later, he turned his attention back to the case again.

"So, Stel, if we know that the boy was given ice cream, we're looking for containers, and if we're looking for containers, we need someone to do a trash dive." He grinned over the table at her, and, she would swear later, there was a glint in his eyes of something completely evil.

"Uh-uh, no way, Mac. Not gonna happen. Get Danny. Get…someone. Not, in a million years, will I rummage through trash."

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Stella sighed to herself as she pushed through layers of rubbish, in the dumpster outside their first crime scene, and anger built in her chest. She could hear Don on the other side of the dumpster, laughing about something – probably her – with Danny. Then a cough, and a cautious, "How ya doing in there, Stel?"

Stella was, of course, not in the mood to mess around. "Not great, Don," She ground out through gritted teeth. "And, Detective Flack," she sneered, "I suggest you shut it, or…" She trailed off, and Flack turned, worried.

"Stell? Or what? You okay in there?" Stella could only lean over the side of the dumpster as she vomited, loudly, onto the pavement. "Shit, Stella, are you okay?" Stella shook her head, and vomited again, causing Mac to look up from where he was standing, a few metres away with Adam.

"Stella?" He was shocked. Stella was never sick, not with flu, not physically. "Okay, Flack, get her out of there, Danny can wrap this up." He called to the younger man, as he strode over to his friend.

"No, Mac. We have another body." Her words made all three men look up.

It was simple to understand why she had been sick. After the area had been cordoned off, two cops had climbed into the dumpster to retrieve the body. Another child. Or, she should say, pieces of another child. Even Mac turned grey, and Danny hurried Lindsay away. Stella, in the meantime, was leaning heavily up against a wall, taking deep breaths and the occasional sip from a bottle of water. She looked up, and smiled weakly at Mac, as he walked up to her. "There are some days, Mac, when I wonder why I stopped smoking." Mac looked at her in disbelief.

"You used to smoke?" He was intrigued by her past, even after all the years they'd known each other. She rarely looked back, although he knew she had been orphaned, presumably at a young age since she never mentioned her parents.

"I was eleven when I had my first cigarette. Foster home, couldn't really keep track of us all." She smiled fondly at what Mac assumed was one of the happier moments in her childhood. "I started smoking officially when I was thirteen. Gave it up on my first day in the lab. I was twenty-six, and it was easily the hardest thing I ever did."

"Good for you. It's a horrible habit." Mac had his 'boss voice' on, and Stella raised an eyebrow.

"It might be horrible, but it kept me sane. And broke, of course." She rubbed her stomach as another wave of nausea hit her.

"I would tell you to take something Stella, but my guess is that you'd bring it right back up again…" 'because you haven't eaten in two, maybe three days.' Mac thought, but didn't say. Stella knew him well enough to know exactly what he was thinking.

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**Keep reviewing :) I am so bored these days, and I want to start another story, any ideas?**


	7. Insights

**Enjoy chapter 7! Chapter 8 is also ready, I'll probably upload tonight too :)**

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The familiar electronic 'beep' echoed through the empty break room. Stella moaned, and Flack looked understandingly back at her.

"Mac?" He asked, sure the response would be a yes.

In the end, Stella didn't even bother to answer, but explained, "Wants me to go over some results from the dumpster with him. God, Flack, I feel like I've been dodging bullets all day, especially since I got back from the trash dive."

Flack smiled sadly at her, wishing he could help. "We care about you Stel, that's all. Plus, you know Lindsay, she'd help criminals if the job didn't dictate she couldn't!" His ploy to lighten the atmosphere worked, but he was flattered that she'd opened up to him, even for a second. She didn't let people in, and to be honest he couldn't blame her. She'd been through enough to be wary of trusting people. But then, he supposed to himself, they all had demons. Their job seemed to attract troubled people. 'Too deep, Flack', he told himself, and then, checking his watch, he realised it was time to meet Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes and Adam at Casey's, like they'd agreed that morning. He looked to say 'bye' to Stella, but she was long gone.

Stella headed to Mac's office, full of apprehension. Not only had it been the kind of day that felt like a week, but he hadn't spoken to her since they'd been at the dumpster. She'd been sick once more, and that had been enough for Mac to get Hawkes to check her out. She'd protested, of course, and had managed to persuade both men that she'd sort herself out that night once she got home. She was back at the lab before she knew it, mainly to avoid the gazes she'd gotten, and had been working solidly all afternoon. And now it was 7:45 and she was standing outside Mac's door, watching him on the phone, no doubt to someone else in the lab.

He looked up and noticed her after about a minute, and they smiled at each other before he beckoned for her to come in. "Hey, Stel. Thanks for getting here so fast. I need another pair of eyes to look at this. These results suggest that the girl who was found today was Jack's twin sister."

Stella's look of confusion confirmed his own suspicions. "Ah yes, that's what I thought. Nobody knew about the little girl did they?"

"They certainly didn't. But that's not what's been bothering me, Mac."

He looked at her, and nodded. "Go on."

"The way she was murdered, Mac. It's so different from how he was killed. I know we thought there was more than one killer, but I wonder if they're trying to tell us something. The boy was killed by being asphyxiated, most probably in his sleep, as TOD was at ten pm. He was fed all the ice cream he could eat – Sid confirmed that, by the way – whereas this little girl was cut up. It's brutal, and callous."

"You know you're onto something there." Mac dropped his pen onto the glass table. "It gets worse though, Stella. Are you sure you want to hear this?" He continued as she nodded. "The girl, Olivia was her name, she was, well, she was raped before she died." He nodded as Stella's eyes widened. "I know, Stella, and Sid just got back to me on COD. It was exsanguination."

"You mean…" Stella trailed off in horror. "She died because of being cut up?"

Mac could only watch as she lost every last piece of confidence. Her stance changed and the arms that she had put on the table to sort through pictures seemed suddenly to be the only thing holding her up. Her straight posture sagged, and even her hair suddenly seemed to wilt before his eyes.

"Her parents are gonna love this. Hold on, who are her parents? They're not Jack's parents are they?"

Mac didn't understand. "They are, Stel. Biologically Mr and Mrs Sherman are both Jack and Olivia's parents."

"I didn't ask who Olivia's biological mother and father are, Mac. I asked who her parents were." She emphasized the last word, and Mac was shocked – Stella rarely snapped. Stella realised why he was confused, and suddenly her anger left her. "Just because they gave birth to her doesn't make them her parents. Who…I don't know…who fed her when she woke up at two am? Who sent her to nursery? Who looked after her?"

Mac understood now. This wasn't just about Olivia. This was also about her.

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Stella arrived, hungry and tired, in her dark, empty apartment. It was, by now, 9:35, and she had only gone home after Mac threatened to have her removed. Automatically, she wandered to the fridge, giving a mental two-finger salute to the people who fussed over what she did or didn't eat. Disappointment met her when she opened the fridge. The lack of food made her stomach rumble in rebellion, and she sighed. Sleep then.

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**I wonder who might arrive at her apartment to check that she's okay? What do you think?!**


	8. Touch

**Thanks for the reviews :) You're so gonna hate me at the end of this chapter.**

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Outside her apartment, a man waited, listening through the paper-thin door, and grimacing when he realised he was able to hear everything. A clever, beautiful, and vulnerable woman, no, cop, should not be living in an apartment where it was easy to make out the gentle slap of plastic on plastic, as the fridge opened and closed, through the door. Mac knew that the fridge had not been open long enough for the pernickety Stella to select something to eat, change her mind, as he knew she would, and begin to unwrap whatever it was she fancied. He glanced down at the bags in his hand – Greek food from her favourite restaurant – the Tria Kuzina – and a bottle of wine.

The delicious smells must have wafted into her apartment, because no sooner had he raised his hand to knock on the door, it had swung open, to reveal Detective Bonasera looking much less formal than usually desired.

She didn't even look surprised to see him, but merely raised her head in acceptance, and allowing him, without second thought, into her apartment. He gratefully accepted this display of trust on her part, and stepped inside, noting how cold her apartment was.

This, he realised, was due to the enormous open bay window, to the left of her TV. He realised, namely due to the cushions, and flimsy blanket flung haphazardly on the bay seat, that she had probably been sitting at the window for a few minutes, waiting for him to come up.

His hand on her arm confirmed this – her skin was freezing cold to touch, and covered in goose-bumps. What he couldn't tell was whether these were due to him or to the cold.

Stella didn't even flinch when Mac took her arm and pulled her back into her own apartment, locking the door purposefully behind them.

"I brought food." He smiled at her, praying that she would take the gesture as it was meant – a takeout for friends – rather than a personal affront, although considering the days events he couldn't really have blamed her if she had blown up at him.

"I…I can't, Mac." She smiled weakly back at him, but her voice broke as everything threatened to spill out. "Every time I eat, I think of these children. They're never going to be able to eat again. Or do any or the things that children should have the chance to do…and it's not fair, Mac."

Mac sighed. This was so unlike Stella, and it scared him. It was usually Lindsay, particularly at the moment, who got too attached to their victims, not strong, impenetrable Stella.

The moment broke, and Stella turned and moved to close the window as a gust of wind started to cause the various papers on her kitchen table to flutter more than was safe. She lost her grip on the window and slammed her wrist down anyway, onto the hard, wooden window frame.

"Fuck." She said it without emotion, but Mac was shocked to see tears well up in her eyes. He grabbed the sore hand, and gently led her to the table. Six or seven splinters were sitting, just under her skin, and one particularly deep one meant that three beads of blood were moving down her arm.

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He found the medical kit in her bathroom, and was unsurprised to find a large amount of aspirin in the cabinet next to the green box. He headed back to Stella, who had barely moved in the time he'd been gone, save for crossing her legs. From behind, she looked more like a child than ever, he noted ironically.

He rummaged distractedly for the tweezers, and, gently, began to pull out the bits of wood from her delicate skin. When he was done, he cleaned the blood off her skin in long strokes, and began to dress and bandage the mess of skin on her wrist. He finished, he tidied up, he threw wrappers away, but not once would he acknowledge that this was Stella he was doing this for.

Until she grabbed his arm. He turned away, to put the green box on her counter, to pour a glass of water. And she grabbed his arm. The feeling of her long, slender fingers wrapped around his upper arm would stay with him, for a long time if not forever. Stella Bonasera didn't touch him, he touched her, and she allowed herself to accept it. Never, never, did she touch him.

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**I know, I'm a meanie for leaving you hanging but I need to edit the next chapter - it's not quite right. So here's a morsel to distract you :P**


	9. Skin

**HII :) Chapter 9 is here, pure fluffy, emotional, Mac/Stella STUFF. Enjoy :)**

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"_Never, never, did she touch him."_

Stella had long since relinquished control of her mind to her unconscious when it came to Mac, but she shocked even herself when she grabbed his arm. He turned around and she saw confusion flicker through his eyes, though, to his credit, he hid it very well.

"Stella." He didn't ask. It wasn't a question. But he needed to know what she wanted.

It had always been refreshing to Mac to see that Stella, undoubtedly wearing the bruises from her upbringing, had managed to maintain some sense of normalcy, not only in her life, but in her emotions. Not many people knew, but Stella Bonasera was a hopeless romantic. And was also, when it came to men, hopeless. Frankie Mala, Drew Bedford, they were the first things that came to mind when Stella's name was passed around in the lab, more often than not by people who didn't know her. Stella wasn't yet over Frankie – who could really expect her to be? He had ruined her trust in men entirely, and not even Mac was allowed to know her true feelings about that situation, not after two, three years. She knew she should be over it, but she wasn't yet, she just prayed she would be one day.

She wanted to get married, to have her own children if it wasn't too late, and to adopt if it was. She wanted, embarrassingly, the white picket fence, the perfect little house outside the city to come home to each day. But she knew that, with her job, she was likely to end up marrying someone with a similar job. She couldn't imagine waking up her teacher husband, or GP husband, or mechanic husband, at 3 am to explain that she'd been called to a scene across town, or in the city. No, she needed to be fully understood if she was going to make that sort of commitment.

As these thoughts whirled closer to the truth, she started to make a bit of headway, started to work out why she was feeling what she was feeling. It wasn't fast enough for Mac though, although he could see thoughts whirring transparently in her head.

Suddenly she stopped thinking, and looked up at him. She looked at her hand on his arm, as if to say 'how did that get there?'

"We need something to drink," she murmured decisively. "What do you-"

Her words turned to a short gasp, as Mac surprised her, placing his hands gently on her protruding hip-bones. "Stella," he murmured, his voice neither a whisper nor a growl but somewhere in between. "I want to help you, but I can't until you realise that this," here, Stella was forced to silence a gasp as the feeling of his flesh on hers became ever more sensitive, "is not okay."

While Mac had been speaking, he had moved his left hand up, to press on her rib-cage, jutting out through her olive skin. He felt it when Stella's skin broke out in goose-pimples under his hand.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped round each other, Mac's hands gently pressed onto her ribs and hips, her head lolling back to rest on his shoulder. The moment was intimate, and neither of them wanted to break it.

As Stella fought back a yawn, Mac smiled. "You need sleep, Stell."

She acquiesced, and moments later he was gone, leaving only the memory of his hands on her.

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The piercing sound of the alarm clock broke through Stella's sleep, penetrating her deepest slumber in weeks. She rolled onto her back, and couldn't help a smile break out on her face after last night's episode with Mac.

She shook her head at the man's uncanny ability to put her in a good mood, whatever the problem.

Slipping quickly into and out of a searing hot shower, she pondered over what to wear, and couldn't help smiling again when she realised she hadn't done that for a good fortnight. Having selected a pair of black pants, and a grey shirt Mac had commented on before, she dressed quickly, and spent some time drying her hair to leave loose, before applying a tad more makeup than usual, and slipping into high black courts.

She left her apartment at 8 am, an extra bounce in her step.

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**SO, leave me some lovely reviews, and on Thursday I will treat you to TWO chapters, how generous is that?**


	10. Comfort

**I'm sorry it's taken so long to upload, I've been hell busy with mock exams (already :( ) This is just a filler chapter for now, I have written another one and I'll upload that today as well.**

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There are some people in the world that can brighten or darken a room with their mere presence. When said people are happy, your own spirits are lifted. When said people are struggling, your own thoughts are a little darker than usual. Stella Bonasera was the living personification of these people. And today was a good day. And it was going to be difficult for anyone to tarnish that.

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On the subway – Stella preferred to leave her car at work; she saw no reason to distinguish herself from others as a cop outside of work, unless absolutely necessary – Stella cheered up the crying baby by making faces at her. On the 3 block walk to work, Stella dug out her loose change for the friendly beggar on the corner, despite the knowledge that she could probably slap some sort of caution on his record. Glancing down at her watch, she realised she had enough time to nip into the Starbucks and pick up coffee for her and Mac – hell, for her, Mac, and the rest of the team. Armed with two cardboard cup-holders, and an assortment of coffees, teas and, bizarrely given the muggy weather, a frappuchino for Lindsay, she marched into reception, stopping to say 'good morning' to Annelise, the elderly receptionist, into the waiting elevator, and up towards the top of the building, where the CSI labs were.

She strode into the break room, where she found, to her surprise, the rest of the team.

"Morning," she smiled round at her team, and set down the coffee. "Where's Mac? Why are you all here?"

It took a moment for everyone to answer, the strong smell of coffee had caught their attention and they were trying to decipher the writing on the side of the cups.

"Rough night?" A deep voice penetrated the sounds of rustling cardboard, and Stella relaxed, hearing Mac's voice. She liked knowing that he was just…around, she supposed. Knowing he was around was her comfort.

She turned her attention back to the younger CSIs, and grinned widely. "Calm down, you lot. Lindsay, that's your frappuchino-with-all-the-calories-in-the-world-on-top," Lindsay smiled and reached out for the plastic cup. "Danny, Flack," Stella continued, "That's whatever macho coffee you two are drinking at the moment," she gestured to the two cups from which the strongest scent of coffee was coming, and received grateful grunts from both men, "Hawkes, Adam, I had to guess I'm afraid, fight it out between you," she pushed two cups to the left side of the table, towards the two men, "And Mac, these are ours." She smiled at him, and handed him the hot drink – black coffee, straight up – and took a sip from her own cup – English breakfast tea with milk – before setting the cup back down on the table.

"Still drinking your girly drink, Bonasera?" Flack, momentarily coming out of his hungover reverie, teased her.

Stella didn't bother to reply, but poked her tongue out in a childish way, and followed Mac out of the room.

"How's the arm?" Mac touched her bandage gently as they headed to his office. Stella suspected rightly that Mac had already been at work for a couple of hours, trying to work out what the hell had happened to Olivia, the Girl From The Bin, as she would, unfortunately be remembered from then on.

Stella looked down in surprise at his hand on her arm. She'd barely noticed the throbbing pain in her wrist until he mentioned it.

"Fine now, thanks Mac." The tone of her voice did not convince him.

"You're a terrible liar, Bonasera. Maybe," he paused delicately, "Maybe if you ate something you could take some paraceptamol."

It wasn't a demand or a suggestion, but it was a statement of fact, Taylor-style. Stella sighed, and acknowledged it. As strong as she was, it was nice, really nice, to know that someone cared about her. Especially knowing that that someone was none other than Dt. Mac Taylor.

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**Let me know what you think :) **


	11. Sick

**So I have a sorry to make. I am VERY sorry I haven't uploaded for 10 days. It won't happen again :P Again this is a filler chapter - just showing how some of the other characters react and interact with Stella as some people mentioned the lack of concern for her in their reviews. What do you think Mac's reaction will be?**

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Difficult to tarnish? Yes. Impossible? No. Being brought crashing down to earth is never fun; being brought crashing down by the perpetual need to vomit is perhaps the worst way. The nausea began when she was reviewing the case photos. The hacked up body of a baby girl could bring the hardiest CSI to tears – hell, Mac Taylor could've wept. Now Stella may have been a raging feminist, but she knew that, as a woman it would be harder for her. Mac, Flack, Hawkes, Adam, Danny. Their natural instinct was to defend – by the time their jobs started the defending had failed and they could separate feelings from the job in hand. Her, Lindsay, Angell, Kendall. Theirs was to protect, and protect they would, down to the last.

Alone in one of the quieter rooms, light spilling ironically up from the table, finding its way out of the cracks between the photos of the bloodied girl, waves of sickness started to pass over Stella. Shaking slightly, she allowed her head to drop, arm supporting her weight, resting heavily on the table. Suddenly she was poised over the bin, vomiting as quietly as possible, tears automatically streaming down her face. Just as suddenly there were hands on her forehead, pulling her hair back, allowing her to vomit again.

Having eaten an apple and half a sandwich in three days did not bode well for a 'chuck-up', as Stella had once heard Danny call it after a rough night. Her tea had promptly been brought up, and bile burned her throat as she retched again.

"Mac?" Her voice was merely a whisper, a breath she couldn't hold in.

"'Fraid not, Stel." The deep voice of Don Flack met her ears, and she relaxed in relief. This was a man who'd seen her in what were undoubtedly her worst moments. Frankie immediately shot to mind, and she allowed herself to relax, ever so slightly, into the touch of his hands on her back, remembering the comfort he'd been to her that day.

"Don't…Don't tell Mac, Don. Please?" Her voice was weak, and she hated herself as she met his own enormous blue eyes, reading only pity in them.

"I…Stella…You need help. Sometimes we do. And you need Mac." Flack let go of her gently, smoothing her hair back down, and severing all contact save an arm on her right shoulder.

"Please, Flack, please. I'll talk to him. I promise. But please, just, don't. I need to prove I can do this." There were tears in her voice that both would swear they couldn't hear.

"Shit, Stel. Okay. But you have to sort this out Stella. No-one's gonna think less of you." He backed off, and turned to leave the room."

"Thanks, Flack. You're a good friend." Her words echoed those she'd spoken three years earlier – just as broken, and just as truthful. The irony was not lost on him as he left the room, acknowledging her with a nod. Little did she know that his minds had been made up, and he was sure she'd have killed him if she could see him striding uncertainly towards Mac's office.

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**I'll try and upload again on Saturday or Sundayy :)**


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